Déjà Vu
by Kaylakayv
Summary: Daniel Howell was born with the curse of immortality and the only way to break that curse is to meet his soulmate twice and fall in love twice. He has already met Philip once and now he must wait for the chance to find him again.


This in no way is meant to be an accurate depiction of the relationship between Daniel Howell and Philip Lester. This is purely a work of fiction and unless they explicitly say they are in a relationship they are just friends. Please respect their privacy :) on that note, I really do hope you enjoy!

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Days hardly mattered for Dan. They all blended into each other and the only discerning feature of each passing moment was the deep melancholy he felt festering in his chest. Flashes of breath-taking blue eyes would occasionally obscure his vision and the brunette would have to stop what he was doing to give himself a moment.

Sometimes he forgot what his laughter had sounded like before he had died and been buried under the earth a few centuries ago. That was the curse of immortality he supposed. Yet, Daniel had complete and utter faith that Philip would come back to him somehow. His lover had promised him after all.

Centuries ago Dan had spent his days in blissful peace. His complete ignorance of the curse that had been placed upon his body as a young infant had kept him from living his early years in sorrow. However, as he grew older and learned of his doomed fate, the world turned grey. He watched empires rise and fall, stood by the sides of notable historical figures, and during the Renaissance period he even made a name for himself through his elegant artwork. Of course, it helped that he had a gorgeous muse.

Philip had been the love of his life, still is to this very day, almost six hundred years later. He is the only reason that Dan still struggles through this miserable existence known as life. Sometimes he wished for a cure to his curse. He wanted to be rid of the hardships that centuries of living had brought him, but magic had been extinguished long ago in the fires of human fear and hatred until nothing remained. Back in those times, he had believed that Philip would return to him soon so he had never dared to try and break his curse, but the years dragged on and there was no sign of the man.

He was cursed to walk the earth until he found the love his life for a second time. Only once the pair had fallen in love twice in two different time periods would he be set free to age and die with Philip in his second life. The only good thing that came from it was that life was never somber when he had the other by his side. To live and finally die with him in two life times would be worth the centuries of pain that Dan has endured.

Daniel Howell was born on an unusually stormy night sometime in the early month of what is now known as June. He could never truly remember the year of his birth since mankind had not been as concerned about precision back then. Later on, it would be all they care about, but the idea never took for him. Old habits die hard, he supposed. That habit began even as early as his birth when he took his time in being born. He forced his poor mother through many long hours of pitiful labor until he was finally delivered and took his first of a myriad of breaths.

His family had been just above middle class, steadily climbing the ranks to nobility, but with the increase in social stature had come the increase in resentment. A witch that his parents must have angered in their ascent into nobility visited his family that night and cursed him to live a life of pain and misery. The only way to break the curse was to find true love twice and have it be recuperated. Until then he would grow to the age of twenty and then be stuck in limbo from that moment forward.

His parents, naturally, had had her beheaded. They had believed that her death would break the curse, but when his twentieth birthday came and passed they had found that it had done nothing of the matter. The moment the curse had been uttered, Dan had been doomed.

When he was still young he had been almost happy with the blight on his soul, however, the feeling had quickly passed. His parents grew old. They withered and died yet Dan stayed the same. He was forced to flee the small, sleepy town of his birth in fear that the townspeople would unravel the truth of his immortality. A few had begun to suspect, and he had even heard conversation that they would have tied him to a heavy rock to sink him to the bottom of the ocean, never to see the surface again, had he not fled when he had.

Back in those days there was no such thing as a social security number to keep track of where a man was born or how old he should be. One had the freedom to wander where ever he so pleased and he had taken full advantage of it.

Dan had brought many women to bed, seducing them and loving them the way a man had been expected to, but the nights spent with them had never been passionate. He was almost the epitome of a modern one night stand bad boy that all the girls wanted, but he yearned for nothing from them.

It almost seemed hopeless to him that he would ever be free of his curse.

Dan likes working inside of the small, English art gallery on the edges of Manchester. Hardly anyone ever visits the place, but his own artwork is hung up in the Renaissance section serving as a constant reminder of Philip's beauty, should he ever happen to forget. Besides, being surrounded by such vivid depictions of history from so many different time periods has a way of setting his fraying nerves at ease. It has a way of making him feel somewhat at home in the ever changing world around him.

When he had first come to Manchester he immediately took on the position as a custodian. Not because he particularly enjoys the idea of cleaning up after people, but no one really looks twice at them. He can blend in and become forgotten as just another member of the ghost staff, always there, but no one really remembers what he looks like or what his name is. It gives him the chance to stay in one place for much longer than he normally would.

Sometimes he finds himself just sitting on the bench in front of the painting of Philip, letting his eyes roam over the pale expanse of the man's skin. He can almost remember the faint music that had been playing in the background, the smells of the bustling baker just down the street, the smooth paint lines dragging from his brush across the slowly coloring canvas. Philip's legs were covered by a thick, emerald green sheet that complemented his eyes in the most alluring ways.

However, there were some things that could not be captured in the painting. The way Philip had thrown his head back in laughter, multi-colored eyes sparkling with joy and unabashed love. The way he had looked so alive, so delicate yet firm wrapped in his bedsheets after spending the whole day lazily lounging with Daniel. No, the painting could never do him justice.

Today, a man is standing in front of the painting, flashing blue eyes tracing the smooth lines that Daniel himself had painted hundreds of years ago. Dark raven hair falls across the pale expanse of his skin, obviously dyed, but it suits him. His hand slowly and shakily reaches forward, tracing the words etched into the golden plaque, following the inscription Dan knew by heart.

Mon Amore, 1436

Daniel James Howell

His eyes follow the man as his fingers gently move farther up, hovering slightly above the folds of the green fabric painted into the canvas, tracing the curves and dips with awe.

"The hair is wrong," Dan jolts from the sudden noise coming from the other male as he drops down onto the bench, still staring up at the painting of Philip.

His own eyes travel up to rest on the light red-brown locks that fan out across the white pillows around his lover, framing the young man's face as he lays back. How could the hair be wrong? He had spent many painstaking hours perfecting it. Making it look like Philip's hair so much that he felt he could run his fingers through it like he used to when the man was still alive.

"Wrong?" Dan found himself asking, stepping forward to stare harder at the painting. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's the only difference I can find," Dan's brows furrow together at the man's reply and slowly his body turns to face the stranger. "Though I guess that's hardly fair, considering I do dye my hair."

Chestnut brown meets muti-colored blue and the breath is stolen from his lungs because the man standing before him is Philip. Oh, how long he has waited for this moment.

The sweltering summer of 1432 had pushed most of Paris' inhabitants from their homes to visit local fountains and waterways. Women could have been seen carefully hiking up skirts to place their feet into the water and men had stripped from the harsh confines of their thin shirts to expose skin to the sun. Daniel himself had stood in front of a fountain in a thin white shirt, the laces undone to show the sun-kissed skin of his chest.

He had planned to visit the Louvre in his free time, but the idea must have crossed the minds of the hundreds of other people in France on that day because it was terribly busy and there was no way he could receive admission to enter. Instead, he was left to admire the artwork from afar.

He would always look back on that day with fond affection. When he had turned to leave the fountain a man tripped over Daniel's feet and had fallen into the glittering water with a strangled scream and a splash. A few girls had screeched in indignation and thrown their skirts down to cover their ankles as they rushed off. Hardly caring for the dames, Daniel rushed forward to help the soaked man from the water, apologizing profusely. Of course his clumsiness had put him in a situation like that. He really shouldn't have been surprised.

His word had caught in his throat when the other had flashed a dazzling smile at him, looking up through thin eyelashes so Daniel was drowning in an ocean of blue.

"Beautiful…" A deep, red blush covered their already overheated cheeks, making both men drop their tentative gazes at Daniel's broken mumble.

"Not so bad yourself stranger," The man risked a smile at him before gently pushing a piece of curled hair from Daniel's face. "My apologies, I must have messed up your hair when I fell."

"It was my fault!" The brunette rushed to defend, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from the touch. "I should be the one apologizing, I tripped you!"

Joyous laughter had rung through the air around him. It seeped into his skin and brought him to life in a way he hadn't felt since he was a young boy. God, the man we beautiful with his high cheekbones and ocean colored eyes that had reflected the sun in golden speckles. He had never doubted for a moment that the stranger was the one he had been waiting for and would continue to wait for. Whatever it took.

"I'm Philip, by the way." He had flashed another bright smile, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth.

"Daniel."

Dan felt an overwhelming urge to move towards the other man, to touch him, kiss him, hold him once more but he knew that would hardly be received well if the other had no recollection of him. The thought sent a stinging jolt of melancholy through his soul even while his lips curled up into a smile. After all those years of searching they happened to run into each other once more. He should have known that he would only find Philip when he least expected it. The other man just had a knack for that kind of thing.

He could deal with his lover not remembering him. They met and fell in love from nothing before and he was positive they could do it again. They will do it again, because Dan needs it. Not to break the stupid curse, but because he only ever feels like he is breathing properly when Philip is stood beside him.

His eyes travel all across this new version of someone he had once known every detail about. Philip's eyes still sparkle in their multi-colored glory, bright blue with flecks of green and yellow splashed around the center because of course he didn't have ordinary blue eyes. No, he was much more special than that. His skin was still white as snow, almost translucent, so one could trace the veins just beneath the surface with ease. His hair was the only majorly different change in its midnight black glory and the slightly more modern haircut.

Overall, Philip still looks absolutely, "Beautiful…"

"Not so bad yourself stranger." The words almost make Dan's knees collapse under him because there is no way that Philip does not remember him. Not when he just repeated those same damn words that had played in Dan's head for hundreds of years. God it hurt to be so close to him and yet so far away.

"Um, unless you were talking about the art… then in that case, er, yeah it is very beautiful. Although, I think it kind of looks like me which would mean you're still kind of complimenting me, so thank you? Oh no, I've probably ruined any chance at you thinking I'm cool." Dan giggles softly in amusement, positively beaming as the other male drops his face into his hands to hide the crimson blush that has made its way across his cheeks. "I'm Phil, by the way, I don't know if you really care, but… yeah, now you know!"

His whole world feels like it's shaking and with a shuddering breath he forces his name out in an answer, "Dan."

He cannot believe they are finally back together.

Daniel and Philip shared everything with each other. They shared their heart, mind, body and soul. Even Daniel's most guarded secret, his immortality.

As hard as the two tried to disregard that small fact it had become harder and harder to ignore the older Philip had become. At first Daniel hadn't seen it as a problem. Age didn't bother him in any way shape or form. He was content to watch his lover grow old and then find him once more, but it wasn't age that tore the two of them apart.

Only eight years had passed since they first met, but the two were deeply and irrevocably in love. Philip was only twenty-eight, but he was deteriorating, fast. The Black Death had grabbed hold of his lover with its strong skeletal hands and never let go, pushing the man closer and closer to death.

It had started as a small fever, but the weather had been warm so neither one had payed the symptom much mind. Of course Philip was hot, who wouldn't be? Then came the cough that punched the man in the gut until he was coughing up red and crying from the pain. They had begun to fear then.

Both men were not too terribly poor so they had sent for a doctor only to be left with the burden of bad news and no hope. The Black Death tore through Europe mercilessly, and it seemed Philip would be her next victim.

There came a day when Philip could no longer stand or stay awake for more than an hour. The fatigue and abdominal pain had become too much for him to do much more than lay in bed and shiver despite the heavy drops of sweat rolling down his face. Some days, the young man didn't even know who Daniel was, and he would scream in terror if he came too close. Those were the hard days. The days when Daniel just wanted Philip to die already so he wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

There were some good days too. Days when Philip stayed awake a little longer than usual and would listen to Daniel read to him and talk about the weather, or the baker down the street who gave them free fresh bread because they had always been his favorite customers. On those days, they would steal a kiss or two because Daniel couldn't get sick and they missed the gentle press of their lips together. Those were the days that he had hope that Philip would somehow live.

The day Philip died had been a good day, full of soft laughter and gentle kisses because they missed each other despite spending every day curled around each other in Philip's sick bed. They didn't talk about his illness, they had chosen to ignore it all together as they normally did on days like that.

It was Philip who had broken their little reverie, looking the epitome of a wrecked and dying man with those tear filled blue eyes. "I hope you don't have to wait long for me. I would feel terrible if you were left alone again for many years, just waiting."

The smile slid off of Daniel's face and he had gripped the warm hand in his like he could crush the bad thoughts before they could reach him. It hadn't worked. "Don't say that. You're going to live for much longer. You've been having more good days recently, so that has to be a good sign, right?"

He almost sobbed at the pitying look Philip had given him. His words were a lie and they both recognized that. It had been weeks since Philip had had a day where he felt good enough to carry on a conversation for longer than a few strained minutes. "Please don't shut the world out when I'm gone. Take care of yourself. I know you don't need to eat or worry about dying, but you still feel the pain of neglecting yourself. I'll be back as soon as I can and then next time you won't be left alone. Okay?"

Daniel sobbed now, hot tears rolled down his cheeks, splashing down on the soiled bed sheets. He wanted nothing more than to die with Philip. How could he live without him?

"Kiss me, please. Just one last kiss." How could he deny the man when he begged him like that? Daniel leaned forward and pressed their lips together once more in a much more passionate kiss than they had exchanged since Philip had grown ill.

I love you was breathed against their mouths, a constant reminder that the sickness had never broken that. The skin that had been constantly on fire beneath his touch gradually had grown cold and Daniel's cries had increased until his head had just lain on Philip's unmoving chest. He was alone once more.

Phil had kept his promise to him and Dan had never felt more grateful in his life. The man standing before him is the man he will love until they both grow old and die. This time he will not be left alone for centuries more. This will be his last stretch of life and he is okay with that if he gets to spend it with Phil.

His Phil, who is gently curling his pale fingers into Dan's curly hair and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. He wants to chase him and capture his mouth with his like they used to because he feels like a dying man who can finally breathe.

"Dan," He slowly looks up to meet Phil's glimmering blue eyes and a smile spreads across his face, indenting the dimples in his cheeks. Phil's eyes only ever glimmer like that when he has done something he is proud of, one of his many endearing qualities. "I promised you, didn't I? It's good to see you again and this time I won't leave without you, I promise."

A watery laugh explodes from Dan's chest and he falls forward into Phil's arms. It feels like coming home.

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